Chance the Zangoose
Prankster Platoon
Lytala City, Tempest Festival Central Stadium

Chance was bleeding. This was not good.

It wasn't a very large cut- Just a lucky swipe across the arm. His enemy had started bleeding first, and this was good. The punk gets lightheaded within a few minutes, and by then the fight is over. He'll die in that alley soon enough- That's what happens when you pick fights with strangers- But Chance was bleeding, and this was not good. He pulled a bandage around it and stepped into the crowds. He wasn't as excited as the others, but interested enough to at least show up in person. It's good for networking, or something like that.

Chance looked out into the crowd surrounding him. They were already going wild, bursting with anticipation for the games ahead. Old Taiya knew what she was doing, that was for sure. Not that she had to work hard for it, of course, half the audience was so intoxicated he doubted they could actually hear her words. "Dead by morning..." Chance couldn't afford anything but sobriety.

Something changed on the stage, in the crowd. In an instant, a Toxicroak had made a lunge for the Queen, and just as quickly, he was ripped open, laying broken on the floor. Perfect, so perfect, just like always. "Idiot..." he muttered, his voice being lost in the cheers of the crowd. Maybe they weren't planning it, but the Lotus certainly let it happen, they probably didn't even have to warn Her about it. Did he seriously think they wouldn't expect him? He wasn't the first assassin to come into this stadium, but he would be the last to make a move today. Deserved every bit of punishment he got.

Dead assassins, stoned opponents, fights already breaking out... Chance leaned back and lit up a smoke. Maybe a good cut's not so bad after all.